


Adopted

by Samsylvania



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: But it's there, Gen, Genyatta isn't a 'focus' here?, I'm so sorry, It was going to happen, M/M, Mondatta dies, More like a blip on the radar, Other, So go nuts I guess?? ?, We're sticking somewhat to canon here people, Zenyatta is sad about it, really sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-08-23 02:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8311147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samsylvania/pseuds/Samsylvania
Summary: "That was, until it came again. Louder this time. Discernable.A child in the monastery? Crying? At this hour?"Mondatta finds Zenyatta as an infant and raises him.  Based on venomines' AU.





	1. Found

**Author's Note:**

> Haaaaaa I know I said it was going to be a drabble but now it's going to be longer than that.
> 
> Enjoy!

He wasn't certain what exactly had compelled him to visit the shrine at such a late hour, but he heeded it's subconscious call regardless, quiet footsteps echoing slightly as he wandered the hallways toward it. Perhaps deeper down he felt he needed a bit of extra focus with his meditation? Something certainly had felt generally off during the past week, but that was no excuse. The shrine was located in a decidedly more open area of the monastery, and the weather in the mountains of Nepal was nothing to scoff at. His inner heating mechanisms could only do so much before his servos would begin to slow under the chill. The fact that the sun had long since set certainly wasn't helping that fact.  
Yet still, here he was, letting this... What was it the humans called it again? A 'gut feeling'? Yes, that was the term. Here he was, letting this gut feeling pull him toward it, ignoring the common sense that told him he should return to his room for the night. There would be time for meditation in the morning, could it not wait until then?

  
_No,_ his subconscious retorted, _it could not._

  
He allowed himself to mull over the train of thought as he continued walking. He didn't need to actively watch where he was walking. Living in this place for a few years now had allowed him the familiarity of it's layout just as if it were the serial code forever ingrained somewhere in his databanks.

  
He was torn from his thoughts by a peculiar noise, steps stuttering to his halt as he focused on it. For a few moments he stood there waiting for it to return, but silence had settled in once more, and he continued onward.

  
That was, until it came again. Louder this time. Discernable.

  
A child in the monastery? Crying? At this hour?

  
It paused but did not stop, and he started walking again, quickening from his prior pace. The urge to go to the shrine had passed. He followed the sound instead.

  
It didn't take him long to find the source. At the base of the shrine - coincidentally enough - lay a small wicker basket, blankets bundled up within. Clearly an attempt was made at keeping the infant warm, but it was either not enough, or there were some other cause for it's disquiet.

  
He carefully took up the basket in his arms, turning and heading back inside. The infant quieted after a moment, though the occasional whimper could be heard. He quietly cooed to it as he walked, wondering silently about what was to be done here. However, that train of thought quickly ran his mind in circles. He allowed it to drift away, worrying only for the present and figuring that the child's situation could be settled in the morning.

  
Meditation could wait.


	2. Attachment

The passage of time is inevitable. Morning will come, just as it always has, and Mondatta will gather with the other monks. He will tell them of what happened last night, and ask if they would accompany him to the village in an attempt to find the child's parents. If found, he would gladly return it - no, him, he had discovered this much in his short time of caring for the child - to his parent(s).

  
If they were unsuccessful in locating his parents...

  
Well.

  
He hadn't exactly gotten that far yet.

  
Even so, he stayed awake as the early morning hours dragged on.

  
"Perhaps I should come up with something to call you, even if it does end up being temporary. We cannot simply call you 'child' forever, can we?" The omnic slowly reached a hand down toward him. The child clumsily reached back, waving out a hand toward his. He missed in his first attempt, but another reach led to him holding onto Mondatta's finger with his tiny little hands. He giggled, seemingly satisfied that he had caught him.

  
Mondatta watched him, humming quietly as he let the child take his finger. He sucked it into his mouth as his other hand began fumbling with the other fingers. The monk knew he shouldn't get attached. There was a very real possibility that they could find his parents later that day, and then he would be gone.

  
_Don't get attached,_ he repeated to himself. _Keep your distance with anything unnecessary._

  
But then the infant let his finger go from his mouth - still holding it in his chubby little fingers - and smiled at him. Whether it had been an intentional smile or an involuntary reaction, Mondatta swore in that moment that he had never seen something more wonderful.

  
So much for not getting attached.

  
-

  
Morning came, as it was wont to do. The child had thankfully fallen asleep some time ago, giving him the opportunity to recharge before morning meditation was to begin.

  
Or so he thought.

  
Sunlight was streaming in through the window on the other side of the room. He watched it somewhat blearily, his systems sluggishly coming back online as he tried to figure out what had disturbed him enough to make him wake. It couldn't have been the light; he was used to it, and his optics had been off. A quick diagnostic tells him there were no internal problems. So, what?

  
Then he heard it; a whimpering akin to that of the night before. It was quiet, but in such a way that it threatened to not be if something did not change.

  
He gently picked the child up out of the basket, cradling him and cooing in an attempt to hush him. He would certainly tell the others of his presence in the monastery and what had to be done, but maybe - just maybe - waking them with the loud cries of an upset infant wasn't the best way to go about that.

  
Overall, the child seemed fine. There was at least nothing outright that would justify his discomfort. Part of him wished he'd spent more time learning the smaller things about humans. It probably would have helped him right now.

  
Warm? Check.

  
Entertained? More or less, check.

  
Comfortable? As comfortable as was possible with what little they had at the moment, check.

  
Fed? Oh. Not check.

  
Of course he would be hungry! It had been some hours since he'd found him, and if the child hadn't been fed directly before being left there, who knows how long it had been since he'd last eaten.

  
Mondatta easily unfolded himself from his lotus position, standing and heading out to trek through the halls once more.

  
They did not have many long term visitors here at the monastery, but they kept a few supplies stocked within a kitchen of sorts for anyone who happened by and needed them.

At least the sparse nature of the quantity made finding what was needed that much easier.

  
Situating the child to rest against his hip, he retrieved some milk, pouring it into a bottle. Thank the Iris that the women who frequented the temple with their children had left spares here, or else he would be at a loss. He warmed it before sitting at a table in an adjacent room, maneuvering into a setup that would be more comfortable for the both of them. He had considered returning to his quarters, but he could see the sun just starting to rise through a window. The others would be awake shortly.

  
After some initial confusion, the bottle was cautiously accepted. When he realized what exactly it meant for him however, he drank greedily, and Mondatta chuckled softly at his enthusiasm.

  
In the distance he could hear the chiming of bells, signifying the beginning of the day within the monastery. The other monks began to wake, their movement toward the usual congregation area reverberating in the air, more as a subtle vibration than outright noise.

  
He waited until all interest in the bottle had been lost before heading to join them, child still held gently in his arms.

  
_Don't get attached,_ whispered his subconscious.

  
_Be silent,_ his thoughts replied.


	3. A New Home, A New Name

By the time he arrived to the gathering in the central room, the others were already sitting there in a semi-circle, murmuring to one another as they talked of their dreams, something that has been on their mind, etc. A bit of interaction before a long period of silence had proven to help many of them settle, bringing their thoughts to the forefront and allowing themselves to peruse what had been brought up.

  
Aadi - part of the original group that had come up into the mountains with him - noticed his entry. "Mondatta!" Her voice held a joking undertone, warm despite the slight chill he was almost certain they all felt. "We had begun to worry you'd finally wandered off one of the cliffs--"

  
Her gaze finally dipped down to the bundle in his arms. The others had heard her, and he felt their gazes shift toward him one by one, silence settling until the only noises left were that of the wind and the infant's nonsensical babbling.

  
Slowly he walked toward them, sitting in a gap in the line. The line did not hold for long however, the other monks shifting closer until they'd formed a small crowd around him.

  
"Brother, what are you doing with an infant? Where are it's parents?" Aadi voiced the question they all seemed to have, affirmative murmurs sounding before dying out once more.

  
"He was left here sometime last night, at the pavilion shrine. In regards to his parents, I would like to ask for your assistance. I can only cover so much ground on my own. The faster we would be able to locate them, the better." He glanced around, finding them to be doing the same among themselves.

  
Again, Aadi spoke, tone turned tentative. "And, if we cannot find them?"

  
"We shall cross that bridge when we come to it."

  
-

  
Fruitless.

  
That was the word that came to mind when he mulled over the results of their search. They had asked everyone in town, and nothing had come up. Not a single individual had claimed the infant.

  
Had someone really abandoned him here?

  
Mondatta sat in his quarters, his (rarely used) set of orbs plinking in the quiet as they hovered in a slow circle over the crib that they'd managed to procure before leaving the town to return to the monastery. They'd come to the bridge, and had crossed it.

  
Mondatta had thought of the idea of possibly keeping the child, raising him alongside the other monks. Whoever had left him must have left him here for a reason. They likely thought that he would have a better life here than in whatever situation his parent(s) has been in. In the end his brothers and sisters had supported the notion, Aadi going so far as to say that it might lighten the atmosphere a bit.

  
As such, here they were now, with the child quickly starting to fall asleep to the soft sounds being played. To call it a melody would be an overstatement; it had no true meter, nor any sort of rhythm or patterns. The sounds simply came as they did, soft and soothing in their simplicity.

  
He found himself wandering back to his earlier query. Now that his presence with them had been solidified, he still needed a name. He cycled through multiple lists of options, but each felt as unfitting as the last. Of course, if the child wanted to rename himself to something he felt was more fitting to his own person, they would all welcome the change with open arms just as they had welcomed their own change from serial numbers to self-picked labels. Until that potential time came however, they had to call him something.

  
He mentally stepped back for a moment, briefly running over the events of the past few days. It had begun with the off feeling he'd had that week, the notion only growing stronger as the days progressed. He had known something was going to happen, but there were no signs as to what. Then, the pull, that subconscious pull that led him to the crying at the shrine, almost as if it had been the child himself calling. He'd also certainly not expected to warm up to him as quickly as he had. He couldn't explain it, besides the fact that it felt like it had happened all at once. The hands curled around his finger, that single smile, had been enough to bring a wave crashing over him.

  
He eventually gave up on naming him for the time being as memories began to bubble up from the past.

  
He remembered choosing his own name. When he wasn't working, in the dead of night, he would listen to music. One of the humans had been playing some, and he had instantly wanted more. He'd grown fond of a band known as 'The Police', particularly their 'Zenyatta Mondatta' album. He'd loved the way that the words rolled through his vocal processors, the sound of it immensely pleasing, and he'd taken Mondatta for his own.

  
Zenyatta; to meet unrealistic expectations, to defy all logic, to leave observers with a loss for ways to describe what they've seen.

  
He looked down into the crib where the child now slept, a serene aura about him, encompassing him.

  
Zenyatta.


	4. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

Mondatta felt like a flower most days within the lines of his personal routine. He rose to the sound of the bells in the morning and settled to recharge at the setting of the sun, and when the light of the Iris shone upon him, he unfolded to welcome it. However, as of late, he'd been erring from it.

Well, the first part, anyway.

Zenyatta, an ever present constant since that day he'd been found, was constantly in need of attention. This was a surprise to no-one, of course. Children aren't exactly autonomous in their younger years, and still need company and help even when they are a bit older. He wouldn't be able to be without a guardian in the monastery until he was at least 13. Even then, the concept was worrying. What if he wandered to one of the cliffside gardens and slipped off the edge? What if he leaned over a bit too far near one of the drop-offs inside and fell? Some drops were certainly worse than others, but there was no doubt he'd be at least injured, no matter where it was!

Again, it was expected that he would need constant or near constant attention, but with all that had to be done during the day, his care usually fell to Mondatta. He had been the one to finalize the decision to keep him, and in the end he figured that it was only fair - but he'd found himself falling asleep later and waking earlier, with the rare few hours once a week when he managed to find someone to watch him in order to meditate. It was admittedly wearing on him.

He looked over from his place in the corner, watching the tyke as he crawled around on the play mat one of the townspeople had so graciously gifted them.

But then he was crawling toward his crib, reaching up to grab onto the edge, pulling himself upright while he held on. Mondatta cocked his head slightly. It was still early yet, did he want a nap?

He let go.

Zenyatta managed to stand on his own for a small span of 2 seconds before he fell back onto his butt. Even so, it was an accomplishment; he was trying to stand! The failure didn't seem to discourage him, because he tried again. The second attempt was met with similar results.

There was something about it that kept Mondatta watching, some vague tug at his metaphorical heartstrings.

It took some many more tries but eventually he managed to stay upright, albeit just a bit wobbly. He took a few hesitant, shaky steps, testing the waters. The soft, delighted gasp that escaped Mondatta drew his attention, and he turned, heading toward him.

Mondatta shifted himself, turning to face him in turn and holding his arms out slightly in an almost beckoning manner. He was walking, _he was walking!_  It felt like it was just yesterday that he was smaller, constantly wanting to be held. He exuberantly sent out a ping to the others as Zenyatta slowly gained more confidence in his steps, giggling in that happy way that only children can.

He could feel his joy echoed in the pings they sent back, and Mondatta swore that if he could emote as a human could, nothing would be able to wipe away the smile that would have been on his face.

He let out a small laugh as Zenyatta finally reached him, gently picking up the babbling toddler. Even if he was exhausted, in the end the effort was entirely worth it.

-

Zenyatta never did grow out of his abundant energy. Mondatta had begun to wonder if he ever would. He chuckled as the now seven-year-old began to fidget beside him.

"You do know that you do not need to meditate with me, yes?"

"But I want to! It's just so quiet, and you don't do anything..." Zenyatta whined, flopping onto his back.

"Well, that is the point of meditation." He allowed his lotus position to fall slightly, tone teasing as he looked over at him.

"I know, but I can't do it!"

"And that is fine. This is only your first attempt, and it takes more than a day to master." He reacheed over to gently ruffle his short shock of hair. "You'll get it one day."

-

He wished Zenyatta hadn't seen it. He had hoped to keep him sheltered from it for as long as he could. Here in the mountains of Nepal, there weren't many... 'incidents'. That wasn't to say they didn't happen, however.

The angry red lettering on one of the walls of the monastery. The hate filled messages.

He'd gone looking for Zenyatta, the boy having wandered away from him when he wasn't looking, and this was where he'd found him, staring up at the wall in silence with one of the most hurt expressions he'd ever seen from him.

"Zenyatta..."

"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice was quiet, but to the monk it felt nearly like a shout.

He didn't respond immediately, rather going to stand behind him, placing his hands lightly on Zenyatta's shoulders.

"The world is not always as kind as it is here. You are still young, you should not have to worry over such things yet."

The two were silent for a moment, before Zenyatta turned and wrapped his arms around him. "They're wrong. You're not a monster, you're my dad, and they don't get to say anything bad about you."

Mondatta hesitated before returning the embrace, humming quietly.

Dad?

He could have cried.

-

"Are you nervous?" The monk watched as Zenyatta paced, hands fiddling together behind his back.

"No. Yes. Maybe? Today means so much, Mondatta. I just... don't want to mess anything up."

"Peace, my son. Everything will be fine."

"You always say that."

"I would not say it were it not true." He walked over, gently adjusting and smoothing Zenyatta's robes where they had shifted and bunched from his ambulation. "Today you join our ranks, and I could not be more proud of you."

The boy - no, he corrected himself, _man_ \- before him smiled.

Zenyatta was no longer nervous after he received his first mark that day, nor when he received any of the other eight. Mondatta was still just as proud of him each time.

-

These were the thoughts that flashed through his mind as the bullet pierced him and he fell back, sensors alight with pain as the world went dark.

Zenyatta.


	5. Mourning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY.

Nepal was just as beautiful as he'd remembered; the snow pristine, the skies clear, and the air fresh. He had been walking up a mountain trail for some time now, land transports unable to go that far and aerial transports unable to safely fly there. In the end, it was all the same with him - it gave him a chance to think with no sounds other than nature's ambiance and his own footsteps.

  
He wondered how his family had been as of late. There had been more and more omnic hate in the world, and he was loathe to believe that it had reached this far. Nevertheless, he considered it. How would they have dealt with it? Were the townspeople still welcoming and friendly to them? He could only hope.

  
And Mondatta? His father had always been steadfast in his nonviolence unless it was absolutely necessary. He knew that in the end, any offenders were probably only there for graffiti and hateful words. There would never be any violence on their sacred grounds. But thinking back, where had Mondatta been? They'd made it a habit since he'd left to talk at least once a week; to each see how the other was getting on, to make sure they were both still okay. Granted, it was more for Mondatta's sake than his own, ever the overprotective parent wanting to be certain his son was doing well where he was unable to see. A few weeks ago however, the calls had simply stopped. He'd tried to get in contact but was unable to. Granted, he had been in less populated areas with limited access to any form of steady communication channels. He had begun to worry, but had realized that as far as he knew, none of the other monks had attempted to find him. He was probably just overreacting.

  
He allowed his mind to return to the present, gaze lifting to see the town below the monastery in the distance. A smile found it's way onto his face and he picked up his speed, eager to be home again. It had been too long since his last visit.

  
His eagerness was stunted upon walking through the streets. Many of the people here knew him, and he them in turn, but none of them spoke. The somber air to them was nearly palpable.

  
He knew they saw him. He'd always been drawn to color and certainly stood out in a crowd, and he was self aware that he was sometimes impossible to miss. He could see their glances, the pitying looks they shot his way before looking away once more, hoping he hadn't seen.

  
But he had. He felt that familiar fear welling up in his chest and he forced himself to swallow it. Something might have occurred within the town; a drop in the economy or a loss of livestock to wolves. It wasn't impossible. If something was wrong, they would tell him, right?

  
...Right?

  
He no longer looked at the people in the streets around him. If he felt their stare, he did not return it.

  
He was at the path leading to the monastery before he even realized it, following it as he had done so many times before in his youth. He tried to focus on that instead, the memories of solid and soft spots, looking at the grass peeking through the snow as he'd passed. A small smile graced him once more before disappearing again as he slowed to a stop, looking up at the high arches and graceful architecture of his home.

  
He took a breath and walked inside.

  
It was empty.

  
Empty was odd. He remembered how many monks wandered these halls when he was a child, always doing something or other. Echoing footsteps. Soft, warm voices. They were a comforting presence. Yet, for some reason, there was none of that today. No activity. For the first time in his life, the monastery felt cold.

  
He walked uncertainly through the halls, occasionally calling out for any of the others. There had to be someone here. There had to be, they wouldn't simply abandon this place.  Never. It was unthinkable.

  
He stopped walking again, looking around. He tried again.

  
"Sachit? Oja? Anybody?"

  
He waited, trying to pick up any form of noise.

  
He heard it. Footsteps. Distant, but there. The sound stopped, as if they too were uncertain of anyone's presence.

  
"Hello?"

  
The footsteps again. They were much faster this time, approaching rapidly, until he saw someone slide around the corner to his left out of his periphery. He turned to face them, immediately relieved to find Aadi there.

  
"Aadi! Thank goodness, where is everyone--!" He cut off as Aadi rushed over, embracing him. He was confused but returned it nonetheless.

  
He could feel the subtle trembling within her, but said nothing.

  
"Zenyatta... oh Zenyatta, are you okay, child?" Her voice was soft, trembling ever so slightly just as her form was.

  
"I... Aadi, what do you mean? I'm fine."

  
She let go of him, taking a step back and raising a hand to cover her 'mouth'. "You don't know... oh... oh, no..." The trembling worsened, and if he was honest, she sounded like she was going to cry.

  
"Aadi, please, what is going on? The villagers looked at me with pity in their eyes. You are shaking and asking me if I am alright. I haven't heard from Mondatta in weeks, is--"

  
Aadi let out a small sob at the mention of his name, slowly falling her knees on the floor. In the back of his mind he could hear the sound of more footsteps, but he paid them no heed as he kneeled beside her. He couldn't hold back his fears any longer, and they threatened to overwhelm him.

  
"Aadi, where is my father?" A plea, quiet and desperate.

  
"Your father is dead." It came out harsh as she broke down into sobs, holding her head in her hands.

  
It all added up before, and his suspicions had just been confirmed to be true. He stood, stumbling backward a step or two, eyes looking everywhere and nowhere. He could see the source of the footsteps now, the other monks having followed Aadi and were now standing there, watching him. They could not move their faces but he had learned to read them all the same, and he found that same pity, the same sorrow in the sag of their shoulders and the slight downcast in their heads.

  
He took another step back. He tried to breathe but it felt as though he could not find air and he found himself gasping, legs threatening to give out underneath him. His chest constricted painfully, his mind awash with a kind of pain he'd never known before. He was both overly aware and numb to the world, and it left him feeling empty and too full with his emotions all at once in a deadly cocktail that he could not even begin to name. He distantly heard his name being called but he stumbled backward again regardless before turning and running.

  
To where, he did not know.

  
He eventually tripped and fell beneath a tree - when had he made it outdoors? - and dragged himself over to it, curling up with his back against the trunk, hugging his legs tight.

  
He remembered this tree. This was the tree where he and Mondatta would always meditate together, all those years ago. It had been the place of many pleasant conversations and bouts of laughter. They would always look out over the other mountains. Mondatta had always loved the view.

  
Mondatta was gone.

  
_His **father** was gone._

  
It finally seemed to hit him then, unspilled tears finally breaking forth. He screamed out his grief, deaf to his own cries as his vision blurred nearly beyond comprehension.

  
He keened, wishing more than anything before that his father would return, would soothe this horrible nightmare as he always had.

  
The mountains echoed his cries, as if they too were mourning.


	6. Epilogue: Partings are a Bittersweet Affair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1/?
> 
> Okay I know I said I was done but damn it, I have absolutely no impulse control. This is a flashback - kind of - to one of the portions of chapter 4. More heartbreak.
> 
> Based loosely around this video: https://youtu.be/ipc-q37a9W0?t=56s . Now featuring Reinhardt/Mondatta. Don't look at me like that, it's cute.
> 
> Enjoy!

Mondatta would be lying if he said he hadn't found himself staring at the incense burning in front of him.

In the end, it symbolized each of his fears in this moment, didn't it? Fear of being left behind. Fear of being forgotten by those he cared for. Fear of letting go.

Fear for Zenyatta.

Omnics have no need for burning incense. They have sensors to analyze air content, but without a sense of smell it serves little purpose for them. No, this was for Zenyatta. He'd done a bit of research, and while the Shambali considered themselves to be monks, they felt no religious ties besides that of their ties to the Iris. As such, they had no true religious traditions. Still, he knew this was important to Zenyatta, and he'd consulted with the other monks to create a form of initiation ceremony for inducting humans into their ranks.

Thus, here he was, burning the incense as the other monks slowly made their way into the meeting hall, forming a semicircle around him and chatting quietly to one another. He glanced around occasionally, wondering offhandedly where Reinhardt had gone off to.

He'd met the man shortly after he'd found Zenyatta that night and he'd been smitten ever since. Reinhardt might be large in stature, but he was the gentlest person Mondatta had ever met. The two never really put a name to what they were to each other - omnic and human marriages were regretably not legal as of yet, or Mondatta would have proposed long ago - but the two were together through thick and thin. He had helped immensely with raising Zenyatta throughout the years as well, and had taken the small boy into his heart as if he were his own.

He was on the verge of excusing himself for a brief moment to search when the knight walked in, quietly making his way over to sit beside the monk. The tension immediately drained from him, which he was certain the other had noticed, but was grateful when there was no comment made on it.

"So today is the day our boy becomes a man, hm?" There was a certain bittersweetness to the way Reinhardt said it that he resonated with just a bit too much. He hummed in response, allowing himself to lean and rest his head against his shoulder.

"Meine Liebste, are you worried?" A hand reached up and brushed against the side of his face, and while he could not feel the touch he could feel the pressure - gentle, oh so gentle - and reluctantly nodded.

"You mean to tell me that you are not? He has never been out into the world beyond the village below the monastery. He has no idea how cruel it can be."

"That is true, but if there is anything I have learned over the years, it is that the world could always use more kindness." Reinhardt smiled softly, shifting them so that Mondatta could still lean on him as he wrapped an arm around him. "He could be just what the world needs. He will be fine."

Mondatta assented with a small sigh, nuzzling himself closer to Reinhardt.

"I hope you are right."

He absentmindedly gauged the progress of the incense, forcing himself to sit up properly again when he noted it was almost burned down enough. A nod to two of the others in the room was all it took for them to stand, moving to the door and opening it.

A stab of pride rushed through him when he saw Zenyatta standing there. He was no longer the small infant that he had found at the shrine; nor the boy who had toddled around after him with an eternal excitement for the world around him; nor the brilliantly bright young man that he had mentored. There was a different air about him now, a sense of composure that he'd never seen in his son until today. Still, it was clearly under-laced by a current of that energy he'd always known if the ever slight twitching of his fingers was anything to go by.

Zenyatta strode in with a schooled confidence to his steps and a smile on his face, and it took Mondatta a moment to realize that the others were speaking, murmuring comments to him as he passed by.

"It's your day."

"Your last mark..."

"My, how you've grown."

It brought a wave of warmth to hear, the other monks having become something akin to an extended family.

Zenyatta sat on his knees on the other side of the burning incense, taking a deep breath before releasing it. His smile remained, but his eyes told a different story. The bright baby-blues seemed unusually troubled, and Mondatta briefly took a moment to rest a hand over his.

"Nervous?"

"Of course. My tutelage is over, and this is the beginning of uncharted territory. Even so... I am excited. I want to help others, as you have always done."

Words failed him, and so he settled for gently patting his son's hand before gently retracting and picking out a stick of the incense. He lifted it, looking at it with a sick hesitation swelling within his metaphorical stomach. A hand gently found it's place on his back and he allowed himself a glance at Reinhardt before sighing quietly, beckoning.

Zenyatta leaned forward, closing his eyes as he prepared for the sting of the burn. Here he was, ready to take this last mark and head out on his own. Had Mondatta been of a weaker will, he was certain he would have been shaking. Even so, he slowly led the incense to his son's forehead, pressing the burnt down end to the last spot in the grid of nine. He could see Zenyatta's face clench up slightly at it, but he did not flinch back.

As soon as it had started, it was over. Zenyatta leaned back, reaching a hand up to gingerly brush over the newest burn. Mondatta placed the incense stick back with the others before standing, the others following suit. 

"The Shambali welcome you fully into our order, Master Zenyatta." One by one, they bowed to the individual at their center, and as Zenyatta stood, he bowed in return.

As they each rose again, Zenyatta could no longer contain himself and a grin burst forth on his face, analogous almost to a bright flower unfolding and blooming in the light of the sun.

 

 

"Pitājī?" Zenyatta poked his head through the doorway. He'd finished saying his goodbyes to the others sometime last night, but he'd wanted to put this off. He knew it was going to be difficult for the both of them.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected when he'd opened the curtain on the door, but it certainly wasn't this.

Mondatta's room had always felt a bit too empty - granted, he didn't need much, but even so the other monks had managed to make their own quarters feel a bit more lively than he ever had - but it felt almost cold now as he stepped in. The usually lit candles were dark, leaving much of the room in darkness as the sun fought to rise above the crest of the mountain. The omnic in question was staring out the window, arms braced on the bottom of the sill.

He looked... small.

He let out a broken chuckle, stepping a bit further into the room. "I knew you weren't going to take it well, but it's almost like you think I'm not coming back."

Silence met his words.

"Father..." He walks forward, standing beside him. "I know you don't want me to leave, but you of all people must know that I have to do this."

"...I know." Another beat of silence. "Do not mistake this for roundabout disapproval of what you wish to do. I simply worry for you. You have not seen the world in full, but I know firsthand of the horrors that it can bring. I only wish I could follow and keep you safe."

"I will be safe, I promise you this. You must trust me or you will live in fear of untold possibilities until I return."

That managed to wrench a wry chuckle from the omnic. "Sometimes I wonder if you are not perhaps too wise for your age. At times you could put any one of us here to shame."

"It comes with learning from a man whose tongue is sharper than most would believe, I'd think."

Their shared laughter echoed off the stone walls, filling the spaces that had been left empty before dying out in it's own time. With it's leave however, the silence returned. Mondatta's voice was quiet when he finally broke it.

"Please be safe. I do not know what I would do if I lost you."

Zenyatta wasted no time in pulling him into an embrace. Mondatta was quick to hold him, memories ranging from tears and scraped knees to nights when the younger could not sleep flashing through his mind. He was certain if he were able to, he would be crying.

"I will be home in a few months time. Let your worries rest."


	7. Epilogue: Every End is a New Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/?
> 
> More angst. All of the angst. Why can I write nothing but angst.
> 
> Enjoy!

It all came down to time. Whether it be a concept of human perception, an illusion, or perhaps nonexistent in the cosmic scheme of things, everything in their world seemed to revolve around it.

It had been one month since his last breakdown.

It had been two months since he'd paused in a town for more than a day.

It had been three months since he'd sat beneath a tree and waxed the philosophies of existence to a frog he had happened to notice sitting on a rock beside the path (the frog had hopped off at some point during, but he hadn't noticed until he'd said all he could say.).

It had been four months since he had gone to Numbani. Some omnics had asked about the burned marks on his forehead. Before he could stop himself, it slipped out that he was one of the Shambali. They offered condolences; he had nine marks, he must have been close to Mondatta. His face had contorted against his will. "Closer than you know," he'd whispered, and walked away.

It had been five months since he'd been able to touch the warmth of the Iris. With the turmoil he'd felt, he hadn't thought much of trying. When he had however, he found himself unable. When he reached the point in his meditation where he would normally be able to reach it, he felt nothing but a cold emptiness. It startled him out of his meditative state, and after he'd fully come back to himself, he had slumped back against the wall and cried.

It had been six months since he had last been to the monastery. Part of him wished his departure had been on better terms, but the majority of him regretted nothing about his actions. Aadi had approached him one night under the guise of potential mutual meditation. He'd agreed, but shortly in she'd begun talking; about the state of the world, about the need to move forward, about the order. She had asked him to step up into his father's place at the head of their cause. He had never raised his voice before in his life, but there was a sudden vehemence within him and with all that had happened he was unable to reign himself in, not that he particularly wanted to. She had tried to follow when he went to leave the room. He had slammed the door in her face.

It had been seven months since he'd returned home to the news that his father had died.

It had been 10 months since he'd last seen him alive.

His father had not wanted him to go.

He had gone anyway.

He was jerked back to the present by a drop of rain falling on his nose. Looking up, he could see the clouds gathering, not enough for a large storm, but considerable enough. A sigh escapes him and he pulls his jacket up a bit, hoping to stave off the bite of the chill just a bit longer.

 _Mondatta loved rainstorms,_  his mind reminds him. _He always said it was part of a delicate balance and should be revered just as much as the summer's sun. Why would you run from something he loved? Coward._

His pace slowed to a halt again, and he looked up once more as the skies seemed to open up, raindrops starting to fall in greater numbers. Why _was_ he running? It wasn't like he had somewhere to go. He was probably going to sleep at a bus station or something again tonight. His gaze fell to the pavement below, watching the small dots slowly overtake what little dry portions remained, and thought briefly that his mind felt just a bit too much like that dry pavement probably did.

"What are you doing?"

He jumped a bit, pulse racing as he quickly looked up at the source. It was... an omnic? He wasn't entirely sure if he were honest. It certainly didn't look like any omnic he'd ever seen before.

"Hello? What are you doing just standing there? It's raining. You'll catch a cold."

"My apologies. I got lost in my thoughts for a moment there, I suppose."

"Don't be sorry. Just get out of the rain." They headed off down the street, and Zenyatta couldn't help but stare after him. What were they? Who were they? He didn't know why he was so concerned, but suddenly he felt the urge to find out.

"Oh! Wait!" His legs stumbled into motion, quickly catching up. "Would you mind if I walked with you? I don't have anywhere to stay, and you've piqued my curiousity."

"Curiousity, huh?" Their voice was dry, as if they'd seen this song and dance many times before.

"Yes. I've never seen anyone like you before-"

" _I'm not an omnic._ " Their voice held a sharp edge. He could see the anger it the way they'd tensed, and knew he'd struck a nerve.

"I did not say-"

"You didn't have to say anything. Everyone thinks it."

"Is it truly so bad to be mistaken for an omnic?"

"I don't know what I am anymore, and I don't want anyone making the decision of what I am in my stead! So yes, it is!"

Zenyatta forced himself not to flinch away at the outburst, silence falling over them. This person was clearly distressed and if he thought about it, he probably saw a bit of himself in them.

_"One can learn much through teaching another."_

The thought came out of the blue, a random quote from a conversation he'd once had with his father. He glanced toward the stranger at his side, mind beginning to wander.

They clearly needed peace, peace that Zenyatta was trying and failing to find within himself.

"Might I have your name?"

A pause.

"...Genji."

"Well, Genji. I believe we may have gotten off on the wrong foot; allow me to start again. My name is Zenyatta, and I believe I have a proposal for you."


	8. Epilogue: Two households, both alike in dignity...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An AU within an AU. I can do that. I have the power. Who knew?
> 
> What if Mondatta hadn't died in this AU? Honestly, at this point, I have no clue what I'm doing. I don't know how to work with... with feelings. Feelings are weird, okay?
> 
> May or may not have some more Reindatta coming in to accompany this later on. Reindatta that's actually the focus of a chapter and not an aside! Gasp!

Mondatta would always remember King's Row. As the explosion rocked the ground beneath his feet his perception of time seemed to turn to slow motion. He watched the two airborne individuals falling, the gunshot that followed sounding distant and yet somehow also akin to a crack of lightning. When he saw that woman blink seemingly out of existence, he'd known in an instant that it was the end. The rifle was pointed straight at him, and with how quickly she'd disappeared there was no way it had hit her. This is how he would die, struck down by an assassin while advocating for peace.

  
Or so he'd thought.

  
One of his guards had turned to him, barreling into his side and forcing him to the ground, the bullet whizzing by and hitting somewhere behind where he had been standing a moment prior. He was quickly ushered to his feet and into the vehicle.

  
He was alive.

  
Probably going into the closest thing an omnic could to the human version of shock, but alive.

  
His processors were numb. He could hear the guards talking to him, but it felt as if they were speaking another language. All of his inputs were muddled and nothing felt like it was making sense.

  
People always say that when you're about to die your life flashes before your eyes, but for Mondatta it was latent, and more in waves than a flash. Memories flowed over him, but when it was over, suddenly it was like whiplash.

  
The Shambali.

  
Reinhardt.

  
Zenyatta.

  
_He had almost died._

  
A broken noise escaped him and he crumpled forward, trembling. He could vaguely feel a hand on his back but didn't acknowledge it.

  
He knew he had more speeches to give. He knew cutting off any foreseeable events would disappoint many. In the end, he was only one man, and a man that had come far too close to never seeing his family again at that.

  
Maybe, just maybe, it was time he took a break.

 

 

 

Stepping back from giving speeches, Mondatta decided, had been one of the better decisions he'd made in his life.

  
He was there when Zenyatta brought a pupil of his own back to the monastery.

  
He was there when their mentor/student relationship had been subtly abolished in favor of transgressing into romance.

  
He was there when Genji randomly approached him one day.

  
The ninja certainly lived up to his title. He'd come in silently, and if it weren't for his offhandedly acute senses during meditation, Mondatta might not have known he was there. He was simply standing there a few feet in through the doorway. Hesitating.

  
"You know, if you have need of me, you need not worry about approaching. I do not bite."

  
"Ah! G-Gomenasai." Goodness, he was jumpy today. He'd never seen Genji so out of his element before and vaguely wondered what could have him so out of place as he shifted from a full lotus to half, lightly patting the ground beside him.

  
"Please, sit. Tell me, what has you so troubled that you've come to me rather than Zenyatta?"

  
"Zenyatta is wonderful, but he is in no capacity able to answer what I've in mind. I'd thought of going to Reinhardt but in the end decided that I would like to remain at least somewhat on your good side. Going to anyone else might have jeaopardized the balance here." Mondatta glanced at him as he sat, noting how his hands shook just a bit. Genji must have noticed them himself, too, because not a moment later he was bracing them on his legs.

  
"By all means, continue."

  
Another moment of hesitation. What could be so overwhelming for him to be unable to voice

  
"I would like to marry Zenyatta."

  
Now it was Mondatta's turn to fall into silence. Genji must have taken it as a bad thing, because he quickly tried to fill it, as if it would be some sort of appeasement.

  
"Even after all of the time I've been here, I haven't been able to see if you follow Nepali customs in full or otherwise. I suppose somewhere along the line I figured it might be best to go the middle road and test my luck asking for a general blessing-"

  
"Yes."

  
"...Yes?"

  
"You have my blessing. You make him happy in ways I had never seen before you came into his life, and if he's taken to you so deeply I can only trust his judgement and hope that you continue to be good for one another. I only ask that you take care of him, Genji. Be there for him when I cannot."

  
There was a smile clear in his voice, posture easing from tense energy to a restrained giddiness. "Of course."

 

 

A week later, Zenyatta said yes.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to yell at me, you can find me at http://samsylvania.tumblr.com/.


End file.
